


Visions of Gideon

by clovercitys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Confessions, Death, End of the World, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Series Finale, im sorry, there is no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovercitys/pseuds/clovercitys
Summary: Jack failed at killing Chuck, resulting in the his death and God snapping his fingers, ending the earth that Castiel, Sam, and Dean have known all their lives.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 8





	Visions of Gideon

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT a happy fic. There is no happy ending. I actually made myself cry writing this.
> 
> Song I was listening to whilst writing this:  
> https://youtu.be/oToP6s-ZG6k

Chuck had once said, “Nothing ever really ends, does it?”

Chuck had also once said, “Story’s over. Welcome to the end.”

Chuck was a hypocritical, narcissistic, liar.

He could bring worlds into existence with a wave of His hand and crush them with a snap of His fingers. Chuck had carved each mountain, dug out each ocean, sculpted each continent, and breathed life into the billions of people on Earth. All of this beauty, all of this pain. All of the ugly and the pure. He created it all. And now, He was about to destroy it.

Chuck had also created the Angels, one of which He had named Castiel. This Angel was on this Earth in his human vessel at the end. Many years ago, Castiel had set out on a mission to save a human from the most painful pits of Hell. A pain you cannot begin to imagine, and one that Castiel would never wish on his greatest enemy. Castiel was the Angel that gripped Dean Winchester tight and raised him from perdition.

All humans are complex in their own way, but Dean Winchester was the most intricate, detailed, perplexing soul Castiel had ever seen. His soul was brighter than any star or galaxy the Angel had ever seen or even made, but it was tainted. It looked as though somebody had taken Dean Winchester’s soul and splashed a bucket of jet-black paint over it. Dark, empty spots littered the lining of his soul like trash alongside a busy highway. Not even Castiel could put his soul back together.

Dean Winchester was born to be the Michael Sword, just as his brother Sam Winchester was born to be Lucifer’s perfect vessel. During their short lives, Both Winchesters eventually gave each Archangel their consent with a firm, yet remorseful, “Yes.”

With each trial the brothers faced, Castiel was right by their side. He was their guardian, their weapon, their family. When the brothers were at their lowest, Castiel was there.

When the earth gave it’s final, heaving breath, Castiel was there.

Castiel felt it before he saw it. He felt the ground heave and groan as if it was struggling to draw in a breath. The air changed from the clean, cold breeze to a darker, sinister weight. It sat heavy in Castiel’s chest as he inhaled.

Then he saw it. He saw the sun dim and flicker out. He saw each tree and plant wilt, their leaves curling in on themselves. He could almost see God’s hand falling down on the earth in front of him, extinguishing all sign of life and crushing the earth like a bug.

_Dean._

Castiel’s first thought ran through his head like a mantra. The Michael Sword, the man that he had raised from Hell. He needed to find Dean Winchester.

He tore towards the bunker, taking its door’s handle in his hand and flinging the entrance open with an inhuman force. His feet carried him down the stairs, through the main quarters, and straight to Dean’s room. Castiel didn’t bother to knock. His hand gripped the doorknob and twisted it. The door swung open and made contact with the wall with a _crack._ The Angel called for the hunter, voice gravelly and worn. 

Dean was not in his room. Castiel had been too wound up in stress and fear that he had forgotten the brothers were on a hunt. The Angel couldn’t feel him. He couldn’t feel his soul, his perfectly imperfect soul, anywhere nearby. Dean Winchester and his brother were nowhere near the bunker, let alone the state.

Before Castiel could take a step, an ear-splitting crack resonated from the earth. The noise sent a wave of pure panic through his gut. Even though he was an Angel of the Lord, Castiel couldn’t help but feel bile rising in the back of his throat at the sound. Dean Winchester was out there and so was his brother.

Castiel found himself outside the bunker within seconds. The air outside had changed from sinister and menacing to that of grief and sorrow. Mother Nature was taking in ragged breaths as though her throat was being sliced open and blood was flowing into her lungs.

Chuck was tearing apart his final draft. Tearing it to pieces and crumpling the last page. His story was ending, and Castiel was separated from the only family he had ever known, from the man he fell from grace for.

_"Cas… Cas I really hope you can hear me…"_

Castiel's eyes widened as he heard the whisper of a prayer from the Righteous Man. Dean Winchester was alive.

_A shaky breath. Then, "Cas, Sammy and I are going to die."_

A blinding flash of lightning reached down, exploding the oak tree nearest the bunker. Castiel, Dean, and Sam had all carved their initials into that tree's trunk. S.W., D.W., and C.W.. Castiel Winchester…

The flames licked at the leaves and branches as they began to shed ash. Castiel found himself doing the same, his eyes beginning to shed tears he hadn't known had gathered in his ducts.

_"There's nothing you… we… can do."_

A beat.

_"Cas, I'm so sorry…"_

The Angel dropped to his knees in the moist and ash-ridden grass beneath him just as another _crack_ exploded not 30 feet from him. The earth split open, swallowing the wooden sign Castiel and the Winchesters made together.

They had taken a few pieces of stray firewood from next to the bunker, sawed it down, and carved the words _The Winchesters_ onto the blank slate. A rope was used to tie the now glued together slabs of wood to a stake. Castiel remembered vividly wrapping his arm around Dean's shoulders, Sam kneeling beside the sign with that dorky smile he wore so well, and when Jack was still alive, him sitting cross-legged opposite Sam and smiling warmly at the sign.

Everything Castiel called home and family was being taken away from this earth, one memory at a time.

_"Fuck… Cas, please. I need you here… I need to hear your voice one last time."_

Castiel had been weeping silently, but with those words murmured in his mind, he began to sob. Ugly, loud cries racked his body as he leaned over, hands gripping the earth as if Mother Nature was going to keep him grounded.

"Chuck, please stop!" Castiel cried, though he knew nobody was listening. Chuck had long gone and was letting the earth fall apart. "Please, somebody, _anybody_!"

_"Sam's dead, Cas. He's fucking dead… This wasn't supposed to happen. What's happening, Cas?!"_

Castiel's heart dropped. The boy with the demon blood, the Righteous Man's brother, was dead. The Angel could feel it, like a piece of his heart was being torn from his body. Sam was dead.

_"It hurts so fucking bad, Cas… I'm gonna die soon." A fit of coughing. "Cas, I love you. I love you so much, please forgive me for everything. I'll see you soon, I hope. Castiel… I love…"_

Silence.

Not seconds later, Cas felt the worst pain he had ever felt in his thousands of years of life. A hand was punching through his chest, squeezing and clawing at his heart. The hand pulled Castiel's heart out with all of it's strength, leaving Castiel empty. Hollow.

Castiel had no more tears left to cry. His breath was coming in rapid, short bursts. A crack of thunder and the flash of lighting were the last things he heard and saw. Lightning struck the same oak tree as before, snapping it's trunk. The tree hurtled towards the earth, towards where Castiel knelt in agony.

The Angel's mind was racing with forgotten memories. Each and every moment he spent with Dean Winchester. From pulling him out of Hell and remaking him right to the casual farewell they shared not 24 hours ago.

As quickly as the tree collapsed, Castiel's mind shut down. Blank. Dark. Nothingness.

The last words that flashed through the dying Angel's mind hurt worse than the branch of the oak tree impaling his chest and tearing apart his organs.

Dean Winchester was dead.

And Castiel would never see him again.

Minutes after the deafening silence of being alone with his own thoughts, a soft, menacing sneer echoed in the dead Angel's head.

_"Welcome to the Empty, Castiel."_


End file.
